


Partners

by KnightApparent



Series: Jotopa and the 115th Legion [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blue mentioned, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obi-Wan is occasionally mentioned but not enough to make him a whole character, Swearing, batch brothers mentioned, reconditioning mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-06-27 10:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightApparent/pseuds/KnightApparent
Summary: Before there was the 115th Retrieval Battalion, there was just Jotopa and Toby, a highly efficient two man team. But it wasn't easy for a laid back, go with the flow Jedi and a high strung clone captain come together and form a working team, let alone forge a love that would last a lifetime.





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I should definitely write about some of Jotopa and Toby's adventures pre 115th, and I've always wanted to write how they met, so here I am, with a short little chapter story.
> 
> Mando'a - 
> 
> haar'chak: damn it! 
> 
> shebs: ass/butt

She was nervous, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was her first important meeting. She was a Jedi Knight, a blooded Sentinel. She had more than seen her fair share of suffering, of things that would make most sentients quake in their boots. But as her tiny ship docked aboard the _Negotiator_ and she made ready to step out to meet with Commander Cody and this unknown clone officer he wanted her to take on, Jotopa couldn’t help but notice the strange flutter of nerves in her belly, the tremble in her hands, and the way they continually twitched toward her lightsabers, a nervous habit of hers that she’d never been able to kick. She chuckled, straightened her posture as she stepped out of the ship and into the landing bay proper. Her Master would surely laugh if she could see her now. Nervous as a kitten over meeting some man. Her mother would laugh, too. Laugh and then give her a swift kick up the shebs.

“Straighten up, _haar’chak_! This is nothing to be nervous about.” That’s what her mother would likely be saying right now, Mando drawl thick even through the voice modulator of her helmet.

This would be the first time she’d ever seen a clone in person. Well, a clone trooper. The distinction was important. 

Of course, she’d seen them over holo every time she called Master Obi-Wan. Since the war officially started six months ago and she was rolled up under his command, Jotopa could say that she’d seen oodles of clones. They darted here and there, quickly passing in view and then disappearing out again as she gave the older Jedi her reports, her curiosity and desire to speak with one of them piqued but never satiated until exactly one week ago when she received a holocall from Commander Cody.

He hated to disturb her, he’d said, voice gruff but his eyes so young and earnest even through the grainy holo that her heart immediately bled for him, but he had a favor to ask of her. There was this captain, a good man, a good soldier, but he was having trouble getting along with the Jedi he was assigned to, and Cody was afraid that he would get sent back to Kamino for reconditioning if he couldn’t find him a permanent assignment soon. Reconditioning? Once he explained the horror of that ordeal to her, Jotopa knew she had no choice.

“I’ll take him,” she’d said on impulse and because she couldn’t imagine letting someone go through _that_ when she could help them, and now here she was, about to meet a man that she was only just realizing Cody neglected to mention any real qualities about.

Her comm chimed. “We’re in meeting room 1175B, sir,” Cody said cheerfully. Jotopa couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll be there shortly, Commander,” she said, trotting to the lifts and squeezing in with a squad of troopers. She smiled at them, throwing them a friendly parting wave as the elevator door opened at her level and she left, their faces an amusing mix of confused, amused, and mildly afraid. These clones were kind of cute, Jotopa decided. All their Force signatures had the refreshing feel of youth, but there was a maturity to all of them, an inner pain that let her know that some great injustice had been done to each and every one of them. That was why she was nervous, Jotopa decided as she stood outside the meeting room door. All these months, she’d done her best to avoid the war as much as she could, her gut telling her that something about the entire affair was wrong, terribly off, but now she had willing jumped feet first into it, and by accepting this man into her life, she would have to come to grips with what had been done to him and her complicity in it as a Jedi Knight who served the Republic. The thought made her uncomfortable.

“Oya, stop stalling and get in there,” she scolded herself, releasing her anxiety into the Force with a determined push and opening the door, friendly smile firmly in place.

The two clone officers stood when she entered the room, and right away, Jotopa could sense a difference in temperament and personality that was so steep it was startling. She could tell them apart immediately. Commander Cody carried himself with a self-assurance that was calming. His Force signature had a certain playfulness that cut the hard determination that colored the rest of him, the cold blooded tactician that made him such a perfect match for Master Obi-Wan. Despite that, his eyes were soft, his base nature kind. She liked him immensely. This other, this captain, this so called, good man, was a ball of tension. His Force signature was so sick with anxiety it made her want to throw up as soon as she brushed against it. Though his face was a placid mask of indifference, his eyes when they met hers were hard with a sort of standoffish arrogance that made her hackles subtly raise, and there was a twist of his lip that implied a certain sort of prissiness that Jotopa knew she wasn’t going to like very much. His entire body was so tense, she was sure that the slightest breeze would shatter him into a million pieces, and how did he live with so much stress inside him all the time? She sighed internally. Oh, this wasn’t good at all.

\----

Toby wouldn’t say that he was nervous to meet his fourth Jedi in six months. Resigned would be a better word. It didn’t matter if she (and he knew this Jedi was a woman because Cody had told him that much already) initially liked him or not, thought he was a competent officer and soldier or not. Eventually, whether it had been two months or three weeks, she would get tired of pretending she could stand his presence, and that would be the end of that. He would get sent to Kamino for reconditioning, and life as he knew it would be over. He would cease to be Toby forever and be some new, hollowed out person, scraped raw of anything that might have made him worthwhile. If he could ever have been called such a thing.

“Cheer up, Toby,” Cody said, patting him on the shoulder, “you’ll like Commander Kaid.”

Toby frowned. “Commander? You’re sticking me with a Padawan?”

Cody snorted, shaking his head. “No, she’s a Knight. She doesn’t like to go by General. Says it doesn’t make sense when she doesn’t command anyone. Didn’t want the Commander rank, either, but General Kenobi insisted she use something.” Toby frowned, not sure what to make of this new information. A Jedi that didn’t like to go by her proper rank? What was he supposed to do with that? How was he supposed to react to that? Anxiety, his constant companion, his only friend, broke over him like a wave, cresting, swelling, taking over every part of him until his entire being was an unending knot of unease.

He swallowed thickly, once. “You’re sure about her, sir?”

The smile on Cody’s face turned brittle. “Doesn’t matter if I’m sure of her, vod. She’s your last chance.”

A slight hissing as the door began to open was their only indication that the Jedi had arrived. They both stood, and Toby was startled by what passed through the door. She was…oh fek, she was gorgeous. That had never…none of his other Jedi had been attractive to him. He wasn’t sure what to do with that information, so he tried and failed to shove it into the back of his mind, eyes greedy, helpless as they soaked in the details of her face. Her eyes were wide and dark, intelligent, sweeping the room and taking in everything with ease. The way she looked, first at Cody, then at him, made him feel…weak…and hot. Strange, deep in the pit of his belly. He didn’t like that, didn’t like the way she was making him feel, didn’t like _her_. She was smiling, wide and friendly, but slightly forced and more so the longer she watched them with that measuring look in her eyes.

“Good morning, gentlemen. So nice to finally meet you both. I’m Jedi Knight Jotopa Kaid,” she said in a easy-going voice that held a hint of a Mando drawl. Cody’s smile was genuine again. Toby could tell he really liked this Jedi for whatever reason.

“Good to see you in person, sir. I’m Cody, as you know, and this,” he said, jerking a thumb in Toby’s direction, “is Captain Toby.”

He offered her a stiff salute. “It’s an honor, sir.” It really wasn’t. Her mouth twitched, and he wondered if she could read thoughts.

“The honor is mine, Captain Toby,” she murmured, and the way she said his name made his spine stiffen with…something. Something he didn’t want to examine. He looked away from those eyes that seemed to see too much, studied her boots, the hilts of her lightsabers. She wielded two, an interesting choice.

Jotopa checked the time. “I don’t want to hold you up, Cody. I know you have a lot to do. The Captain and I can figure it out from here if you want to go.”

Cody shot her a grateful smile, taking the datapad she offered him from her hand with ease and making for the door. “This is your mission report? I’ll make sure the General reads it, sir. Next one should be sent to you already. Be careful you two.” He was out the door, nearly before the last words were out of his mouth, his mind already on the million other tasks he had to oversee before the day ended. Toby sucked in a quiet breath, tried to calm his racing heart. This was it: his last chance. He was living on borrowed time.

The Jedi turned to face him and smiled, her smile kinder now that they were alone.

“It really is nice to meet you, Captain. I want you to know that,” ,” she said softly, catching his gaze again and staring up at him with earnest eyes. Toby was surprised at how much he wanted to believe her, wanted to return that sweet smile with one of his own, even felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in the scant seconds before he controlled himself. It was her eyes, he decided. There was something about them that pulled him in and refused to let go. He would have to make sure not to look into them too often. That thought in mind, he tore his gaze away from hers, focused instead at a point just to the side of her head.

“My hope is that we can have a fruitful working relationship, sir.” He said stiffly. It was best to have things out in black and white. That way there would be no misunderstandings between them later on. Surely she would see the sense in that?

Her head tilted, smile turning wry for some unknowable reason. “I think we’ll work out just fine, Captain. Well, come on. We’re a long way from our next target, and you need to get settled on the ship.” She turned, heading for the door and, released from the heavy weight of her gaze, Toby breathed a sigh of relief, his nerves easing slightly as he shouldered his pack and followed her to the landing bay.

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Cassios-7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a month later, Jotopa and Toby get ready for a mission

“So, where is this artifact, exactly, sir?” Toby asked about an hour before their ship, the _Valiant_ , was due to drop out of hyperspace.

They were standing around the table in the small kitchen of their ship. It was a light freighter, of the VCX-100 class, common enough that they didn’t raise any eyebrows no matter what portion of the galaxy they were in, and modified enough that they could handle any trouble that came their way. Jotopa handed the datapad she was holding to Toby so he could read the small details of their mission while she answered his question.

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” she answered with her usual nonchalance, and Toby winced slightly. He was still getting used to that, “but I can tell you about the Shrine it’s housed in. Do you know much about Shrines, Captain?” When he shook his head no, she continued.

“Shrines can best be described as lesser Temples. They’re usually built by groups of people with low Force sensitivity who nonetheless feel the swirling convergence of…I call them Force eddies, but I’m sure they have a proper name. At any rate, over time any objects left in these Shrines absorb enough of the concentrated energy of the Force that they become classified as artifacts. The only problem with these things is that, since they weren’t purposefully made, no one knows what they can do. They can be very powerful in the wrong hands when they become active.” The Commander said. Toby nodded slowly.

“And since there’s been increased Separatist activity in this sector, we need to retrieve it before they do.” He concluded. She beamed, always inordinately pleased when he contributed something to their sparse conversations, and Toby allowed his lips to twitch up in a faint return smile.

Thirty standard days had come and gone since Jedi Knight Jotopa Kaid took clone Captain Toby on as her partner and the two of them became known as the 115th Retrieval Team. It hadn’t been bad so far. The Commander was quiet. She kept to herself for the most part, only really engaging with him to offer him a share of the food she cooked. He didn’t get the sense that she was avoiding or ignoring him, more that she was giving him space. To do what, Toby wasn’t sure, but he appreciated the sentiment anyway. He also thought that she as using the time to get used to having another person aboard the ship. There were many times when they ran into each other in the halls that she seemed almost startled to see him, her hands going for her lightsabers on instinct in the scant seconds it took for her to remember he was supposed to be there. That was happening less and less, thankfully. He wasn’t sure how skilled a fighter she was, but that wasn’t the way he wanted to find out.

On his part, he spent most of his time reading. The type of work Commander Kaid did was a bit different from what he’d been raised to do. He was a scout by specialization, ARC rated, and bred for the command of large numbers of troopers. By rights, he should be a Commander himself with at least a battalion of his own, but he was…he was…

He occupied himself with research. First, about his Jedi and what her specializations were. He learned that she was a Jedi Sentinel, a type of Jedi that he thought could be best compared to a scout or a recon trooper, then he learned that she was in the division of Jedi called the ExplorCorps, Jedi who spent most of their lives on the far edges of the Outer Rim and in Wild Space exploring and documenting and learning whatever they could. He learned also that she was relatively young at twenty-six standard years. She was Knighted at age eighteen and had been doing well by all accounts. He concluded from these facts that she was suited to these missions they were given. Other facts would come with greater interaction with her, something he wasn’t opposed to. She seemed…nice. That wasn’t something he could have said about his other three Jedi. Polite, yes. Compassionate in their own ways, yes. Calm, definitely. Nice, no. Not like Commander Kaid. Her eyes made all the difference. When she looked at him, there was an earnestness there that he wanted to trust, a truthfulness in her words to him that set him at ease. He found himself relaxing around her, just a little, and not immediately leaving a room when she entered, slowing down when he ate so that he could observe her for a few moments longer, sharing the space and the silence with her.

After learning all he could about the Commander in the Archives, he turned his attention to learning the locations of all the Jedi Outposts, and then he read the mission reports she had sent in from before they began working together. It was important that he have an idea of what to expect, of what he might be able to contribute to the missions so that Commander Kaid wouldn’t become unhappy with his performance and send him away. If she did that, she might as well drop him off at Kamino herself because that’s where he would be headed, and Force only knew the person that would come back from that. It wouldn’t be him anymore, he knew that much.

“That’s right, Captain. This Shrine is located in the uninhabited area of Cassios-7 on an island chain with abnormally heavy volcanic activity. As the Force presence becomes stronger over the years, it isn’t unheard of for the inanimate landscape surrounding it to gain a kind of near sentience and act as Shrine guards. We’ll have to be very careful,” she said, leaning against the table and watching him with solemn eyes. This would be their first time recovering an artifact together. Most of the preceding days had been spent at Outposts outfitting their ship (the Commander seemed mildly horrified when she saw all the rations he’d been given by the quartermasters on the _Negotiator_ , telling him she didn’t live on those gross things, and she’d be damned if he would either when she was perfectly willing to cook for the both of them) with food and other supplies, checking in with the Commander’s various contacts, and learning to share space with one another. This was the most serious he’d ever seen her, and he didn’t blame her one bit: he was just as unsure of her as she seemed to be of him.

He projected a preliminary map of the Shrine onto the flat surface of the table.

“How do you want to do this?” He asked. She came around, eyes focused as she studied the map.

“We’ll land here,” she said, pointing at a clear space one hundred meters from the front of the Shrine, “that should keep us well out of range of any guardians we might encounter in case we need to back up and regroup.”

He scrolled through the data on the pad, frowning.

“This intel is very old. I don’t think we should trust anything until we can do some scans of our own,” he said, and she nodded.

“I agree. I don’t want to walk in there blind and one of us gets hurt as a result. Alright,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her chest, a small grin teasing her full lips. Toby quirked his eyebrow, internally amused. “It’s almost time! Let’s suit up and go steal some shit, eh?” She said, looking way too excited, and he snorted, a short laugh escaping him before he could stop himself. The Commander stopped short, her head cocked as she watched him chuckling avidly, a curious expression he’d never seen before on her lovely face. He cleared his throat, feeling the beginnings of a flush heating his cheeks. Shit, he shouldn’t have done that.

“Sir?”

She started a little then smiled, a gentle thing that made his stomach flutter.

“You have a beautiful laugh, Captain. You should do it more often,” she commented idly and was out the door. Toby rubbed the back of his neck, face hot. Fek, she was a strange one.

\--

Lucky (who, out of all his batch brothers, was his best friend) always told him he worried too much. “You let yourself get caught up in all the little details, big bro, and then you freeze up because you don’t know what to do first. You need to learn to relax,” Lucky would always tell him after yet another panic attack had laid him low, caused him to mess up and their squad to fail in their objective. He would feel Snow and Blue’s exasperation, slowly edging into true resentment, burning into him as he sat on the edge of his bunk and shook like a leaf in the midst of a storm. “I’m trying,” he would whisper, and Lucky would make an understanding noise in the back of his throat and continue to rub his back soothingly. Because he was trying, and ever patient Lucky knew that. He also knew that Toby couldn’t change, would get them killed. He seemed to have made peace with that. Being split off to go through officer’s training had been a slight relief but not much of one.

Verb (who was not a batch brother but the first brother he ever thought of as being older than him) always told him he focused too much on the wrong thing. They met in officer training, the older clone looking so sure of himself that it immediately put Toby at ease, the fierceness of the hugs Verb was known for enveloping stupid little cadets like Toby in doing way more to get him through the ordeal than his own resolve. “You need to take a step back, vod. When your mind tries to make you focus on this thing, take a breath and think about this other thing instead,” Verb would grab him by the shoulders and look him in the eye, his expression so deadly serious that Toby remembered every word as if it had just been spoken, “no one can make you do anything you don’t want to. Do you understand?”

He thought about them, Lucky and Verb, as the ship dropped out of hyperspace and Commander Kaid gently directed it into a lazy spiral down to the planet surface. What would they think of him now? His heart was pounding, belying the calm façade he kept up for the Jedi’s sake as he helped her pilot the ship. His hands were sweaty inside his gloves, and if he had his helmet on, he knew he’d be able to watch his life signs going crazy in the corner of his visor. He was nervous. Beyond nervous. A panic attack was teasing at the edges of his consciousness, and for what? He wanted to do well for this Jedi. So she could see that he was competent. Worth keeping around. He had to do well so she would like him and want him to stay, and he could keep watching her while she sang songs and cooked, keep admiring the play of sun and star light across her skin through the viewports of their ship, keep having rare but increasingly common conversations with her about everything and nothing, and not, _absolutely not_ , be sent away and scraped raw, turned into something worse than a clanker, worse than being dead.

Fek. He briefly closed his eyes, pulled in a shallow breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart. Get a hold of yourself, he sternly instructed, his mental voice sounding desperate even to himself. Calm down. His hands were beginning to tremble on the controls, vision edging black as it tunneled.

“Captain?” Her voice cut through the roaring in his ears. He started, blowing out the breath he’d been holding, eyes wide as he looked at her.

“S-Sir?” He stumbled over the word and could have throttled himself. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, biting it softly, before reaching over to lay her hand over his gloved one. His breathing slowed as he felt something, warm and soft and so soothing, brush across his mind. Was that…?

“Thank you. For coming with me. I know you didn’t exactly choose this, but,” she squeezed his hand with surprising strength before pulling away, “thank you. We haven’t been together long, but I don’t think I could manage without you now.” She laughed wryly, the sound directed at herself more than him, but Toby wasn’t listening. He felt…calmer now. Somehow. He took a breath, held it for a moment, and on the exhale, he was focused again.

He reached out, touched her bare shoulder gently, and gave her a real smile for the first time.

“You’re welcome, sir. Now, let’s go steal some shit, yeah?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise even as she laughed with delight. Their ship burst through the low hanging clouds, revealing the Shrine built into a smoking volcano. Toby sat up straighter, heart pounding again but now with the excitement of an upcoming mission.

He could do this. He could work with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point I will actually write them doing adventurous stuff, I promise. Next chapter!
> 
> Verb belongs to my good friend Fandom_Trash224


	3. Of Buirs and Masters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jotopa backstory! And we meet an interesting character

Three months, and Jotopa was getting used to having the Captain on board with her.

He was quiet, perhaps the quietest man she’d ever known. She was used to silence, having spent so much of her adult life in deep space traveling. One easily got used to having only the stars and the Force for company more often that not, the fleeting contact she had with other sentients never registering past the surface levels of her consciousness. She preferred it that way; there was less of a margin for error, less of a chance that one might find oneself in the dangerous position of becoming attached, of caring more than was proper for a Jedi Knight. And then of course, indelibly branded on the landscape of her subconscious mind no matter how desperately she tried to meditate, to Force it away, there was that fateful training exercise when she was nearly fourteen, the jungle air thick in her lungs as she watched her Master’s ship take off, leaving her alone. For weeks, for months, for so long she lost count, and she likely would have died there, all alone on that abandoned planet, had it not been for -

But she didn’t like to think about that. It was in the past, and she’d had a good Master, hadn’t she?

Hadn’t she?

For all his silence, the Captain was surprisingly good company. He wasn’t used to being alone, so he sought her out constantly. At first, she would spot him from the corners of her eyes watching her from just outside doorways, his Force signature a swirling blend of anxiety, confusion, and loneliness. She didn’t do anything at first, simply letting him come and go as he pleased, but as he grew bolder, as he began filling the doorways that he watched her from, edging into the kitchen to take a hesitant seat at the edge of the bench while she cooked or serviced her lightsabers, shyly beginning to do his own exercises while she tired herself out in the small gym, she began to speak to him. Softly; she didn’t want to scare him away, didn’t want to go back to square one when he was just starting to relax around her, and her patience was rewarded. He began to loosen up, to talk with her in more than the stiff and formal tone he had taken since they first met. He began to dress down some during their downtime, to ask her halting questions about herself and whatever came to mind. Every smile she brought to his lips felt like a hard won victory, and when she first heard him laugh, it made something warm and wonderful burst to life in her chest. She basked in the warmth of his presence, the strange focus his nearness brought far outshining the harsh and jagged lines of his anxiety that snarled and bit at his heels like a feral animal slowly being brought to heel.

Jotopa sat in her quarters, her mind lazily spiraling up from a deep meditation. It was the beginning of the day cycle, almost her turn to man the cockpit alone for a few short hours while the Captain caught a cat nap. The two of them had quickly established a watch of sorts, both of them too cautious to leave their safety wholly in the hands of the autopilot while they slept even if they were in hyperspace. Working out a shift the both of them could work with had been ridiculously easy, and her esteem for the clone captain only rose at his willingness to adapt to any change she threw his way overcame his unease at going against the regulations that had been drilled into him since birth. A soft knock on the door opened her eyes, and with a easy flick of her wrist, the door unlocked and slid open. Toby hovered just outside of it, helmet cradled in the crook of his arm, an expression of confusion warring with amusement on his face.

“Someone on the line for you, sir,” he paused, the amusement briefly eclipsing his confusion before he wrestled his features under control, “an incredibly rude bounty hunter. Mandalorian, by the looks of her.”

Jotopa grimaced. Of course it was her. There was only one Mandalorian she associated with, her network of contacts small but varied. She stood, stretching out the kinks that formed during her hours of meditation.

“I hope she wasn’t too rude to you, Captain,” she said, the two of them walking side by side to the cockpit. Toby snorted softly, allowing her to enter the cockpit ahead of him.

“Nothing I’m not used to, sir.” He said, and she would have pursued that cryptic and alarming statement further ( _would_ pursue it further just as soon as she got the chance, dammit; _who hurt him_?), but as soon as she entered the small space, the figure on the screen started talking.

“Finally! Oya, ad’ika, since when do you rub shoulders with a clone of Jango Fett? And such a stuffy one, too!”

Jotopa sighed, sitting down in the pilot’s seat. The captain stood behind her, his signature a tense little ball. Best to get this over and done with, she mused. “Hello, buir, how are you? This is Captain Toby. He’s not stuffy; he’s my partner, so please be nice to him, yeah?” She felt more than heard his shock when she referred to the bounty hunter as her mother, but she couldn’t turn around and explain things to him just then. Her mother was speaking.

“Hmph, well alright. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your little captain, ad’ika? Don’t be rude.”

Jotopa refrained from rolling her eyes and motioned for the captain to take a seat in the copilot’s chair. Hesitantly, he did so, the confusion from before back with a vengeance.

“Captain, this is my mother, Asha Kaid from Clan Kaid of Concordia. She, ah,” Jotopa paused, feeling her mother’s sharp eyed gaze on the side of her face as she tried to think of a way to sum up three years of heartbreak in as few words as possible, “she raised me for a time.”

Asha snorted, finally removing her bucket from her head. “That’s one way of putting it, isn’t it, my daughter? They certainly made a Jedi out of you despite themselves,” she grumbled.

“That they did, buir,” Jotopa laughed softly, the sound so gently mocking that Toby couldn’t help but frown in his seat next to her. He looked between the two women, searching their features for similarities.

Asha Kaid was a woman comfortably in her late forties or early fifties. Her skin was a dark mahogany, the same wide, dark eyes as the commander set in her face though there was a hardness to hers that was not present in Jotopa. Her close cropped hair was black salted with gray, and there was something about the set of her shoulders even as she reclined in her own pilot’s chair that let Toby know that this was a fellow soldier speaking. The bounty hunter regarded them, eyes softening somewhat as she read something in Jotopa’s carefully neutral expression.

“Ah, well, to business then. I’ve got the intel you requested, cyar’ika, if you’ve got my credits,” Asha said, and Jotopa’s answering smile was a touch more genuine.

“Of course, buir. I wouldn’t dream of short changing you.” She replied, eyes glinting with the shared joke. Intel and credits were exchanged, the two women chatting amicably as they both confirmed receipt of their goods. Toby watched silently, a strange feeling, something like unease but hotter, angrier, stirring in his stomach and setting his teeth on edge.

“Yo, Captain!” Asha suddenly called. Toby started, meeting the fierce gazed leveled his way with a raised eyebrow.

“Sir?”

Asha jabbed a finger at him. “You make sure you take good care of my daughter, hear? Jango taught you well enough to do that at least.” He blinked, nodding slowly and ignoring Jotopa’s exasperated groan next to him.

“Yes, sir. I will.” He promised quietly. Asha snorted, shaking her head once more before disconnecting the call.

The cabin was silent and dark, the only light the dim glow of the instrument panel and the faint stars through the viewport. Jotopa abruptly stood, hands fumbling over the controls as she placed the ship in autopilot.

“Sir-“

“I! I…excuse me, Captain. I-I have to go,” she said, stumbling over her words and cursing herself when she saw the confused, almost hurt look on his face even as she fled the cockpit. Fek! She was such a child, getting upset over a little joke like that when her mother had done nothing but help her for nine, nearly ten years. They made a Jedi out of her alright, but what a Jedi she was, she thought angrily as she burst into the kitchen, hot tears of repressed anger and frustration and years old hurt burning at the corners of her eyes.

She was supposed to be over this. She was a Jedi for star’s sake. Why couldn’t she let it go? Why did it seem like every time she thought she was making progress, something happened, something small and inconsequential, and it was like she was that thirteen year old padawan again, screaming for her Master to come back, to not leave her, to please, please, _please_ not aban-

“Sir?” The Captain’s voice, gruff, hesitant, but as welcoming as bacta on a festering wound, jerked her from her spiraling thoughts. She gasped, spinning around to face him, face flushing when she realized he was looking at her like she was some wild, wounded animal and would pounce on him at a moment’s notice. Maybe I am, she thought sardonically, berating herself for losing control in front of him like that. He deserved better than to be saddled with the likes of her.

The Captain bit his lip, approaching her slowly.

“Sorry to follow you, sir, but,” he paused, seemed at a loss for words, his golden eyes soft with a concern she didn’t deserve, “you seemed upset. A-Are you alright?”

She smiled wanly at him, beset by the urge to brush her fingers across his cheek. He needed to shave, she thought idly.

“Forgive me, Captain. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m fine,” she said, and she wasn’t sure who she was lying to in that instance: him or herself. The Captain shifted, his expression conflicted. She turned away from him, swallowing thickly as she focused on the cooking area in an attempt to stave off the tears threatening to spill from her stupid, traitorous eyes. She was supposed to be better than this, and yet here she was: undone by the simple kindness of this captain. She was woefully pathetic. A hand reached out and grasped her upper arm, and she turned her head to star at the captain with wide eyes.

“Sir,” he said again, hesitant but more earnest and sincere than she’d ever heard him before, “if something is bothering you, you can talk to me about it. I may not be able to do much, but I can listen. I want to. Please.”

Jotopa covered his gloved hand with her, sighing even as she rubbed her face with her free hand. What could she say? Where to start? And what would he think of her when she was finished? It shouldn’t even matter, she thought even as she accepted that it did. His opinion of her mattered.

“I became a padawan when I was eleven years old,” she started softly, keeping her focus on his hand on her arm.. If she just focused on that, she could do this, “My Master is a very good Jedi and a great example for a youngling to have. Compassionate, polite, calm under every circumstance. The perfect Jedi,” she could do this; she could do this, “When I was thirteen, my Master and I left the Temple with just the clothes on our backs and took a small transport to this planet called Kress. We…we left the transport, walked for a time, and then my Master told me to stay where I was, and she walked back. She…she left,” Jotopa paused, feeling the way the captain’s worry spiked and turned into outrage even as the hand gently stroking her arm squeezed just enough to let her know he was listening, he was still with her.

“She left you?” He asked, voice gruffer still as he asked for confirmation she sensed he didn’t want. She nodded once, keeping her eyes on his hand. There was no way she could look at him. Not right now.

“Yes, she did, but she would have come back if I was in real danger; I’m sure of it. I…I’m sure…” she trailed off, eyes closing as she thought of those months spent alone on Kress, the painful hunger, the terror of each night as she huddled in her chosen encampment, never staying in one place for long, not with the beasts that followed her every step waiting for her to mess up. How she survived for as long as she did would remain a mystery to her.

“And Asha? How does she fit into this?” He gently prompted her after several minutes of agonizing silence went by. She stirred herself from those memories, a smile touching her lips.

“Asha found me. She’s Force sensitive herself, you know. That’s how she knew to look for me. She found me and took me in. Made a little bit of a Mandalorian out of me,” she chuckled softly, the sound pained, “at least until my Master found me with her three years later and brought me back to the Temple.”

The Captain made a sound in the back of his throat, outrage spilling over and demanding he do something, the strength of the impulse so strong, Jotopa couldn’t find it within herself to be surprised when he jerked her close and she found herself pressed into his side, her cheek smashed uncomfortably into the side of his pauldron.

“Captain?” She inquired, but he was too incensed to hear her.

“Three years? She abandoned you for _three years_? Did she even fekking check to make sure you were alive? You were her responsibility, and she left you all alone. Anything could have happened to you; what kind of karking Jedi is that? A bitch, that’s what kind. No wonder your buir hates them, I-”

Jotopa reached up and cupped the side of his jaw, effectively stopping his ranting. A dark flush appeared on his cheeks as he peered down at her in his arms, but he didn’t let go.

“Sir?” His eyes were such a beautiful shade of brown, she thought; how could anyone have such incredible eyes?

“Thank you, Captain. Really. It means…it means more than you know,” she said. He covered her hand with his, the heat of his palm burning her even though the thick material of his glove. His gaze pinned her, though she would not have moved regardless.

“No one deserves that, sir. Especially not you. Your Master was wrong for what she did; don’t need to be a Jedi to see that,” he said solemnly. Tears threatened her again, and regretfully she pulled away from the comfort of his arms but not before she reached up and pressed a chaste kiss to his stubbled cheek. She brushed her fingers across his pauldron and breastplate as she walked to the kitchen door, a wry smile on her face.

“Perhaps you’re right, Captain. Maybe one day I’ll even believe it myself,” she said when she paused just inside the doorway. The Captain was touching his cheek where she’d kissed him, a curious expression that she’d never seen before on his face. Their eyes briefly met.

“It’s Toby, sir. Call me Toby.”

She smiled. “Thank you…Toby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> Buir- mother  
> ad'ika - little daughter/daughter  
> cyar'ika- sweetheart


	4. Ori’vod & vod’ika

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude between Toby and his batch brother Pyro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Verb belongs to my good friend Fandom_Trash224, and I thank them for letting me borrow him for my good lad Toby

“You seem different.” 

It was Pyro, so the observation was in no way accusatory, but Toby felt his shoulders stiffening in response anyway. The two of them sat side by side on Toby’s assigned bunk in the officer’s barracks on Coruscant. While nearly everyone else was using their off hours to either explore the nightlife the planetwide city had to offer or else drink their sorrows away, the two batch brothers were using the time to catch up with each other. It had been months since the last time they saw each other, a rain soaked day on Kamino being the last time, and when Toby thought about how long it had been since he’d seen his other batch brothers, his stomach twisted up in anxious, unhappy knots. 

It was only by the strictest coincidence that Toby and his Jedi had come to the busy planet at the same time Pyro (and the rest of his batch brothers, but he had yet to see them) and his unit were there, but Toby was not one to look a gift bantha in the mouth too closely. The two batch brothers, upon spotting each other across the barracks, had simply grinned widely at each other and hurried to shed their armor, taking comfortable seats on Toby’s bunk and sharing news that was too cumbersome to relay via holo. Fek, it was good to see Pyro. The lieutenant looked great. Like all his batch brothers except himself, Pyro was a Galactic Marine. Despite the dogged relentless that the Marines were renown for, he had an easygoing nature, a lopsided grin always coming to his mouth easily. His sharp eyes were nearly as kind as Lucky’s were, and he’d always asked Toby for advice much to his continued astonishment. At some point, he’d gotten a flame tattooed to cover his right eye, and he always faintly smelled like singed hair and ozone. 

Of course, most of Pyro’s news had to do with their batch brothers, funny stories of their latest antics, somber stories of battles fought and won or fought and lost, restful stories of them in the quiet moments of their often brutal lives. Toby pushed his jealousy away and focused instead on listening with intent to each tale his younger brother told. He was the older brother, he reminded himself firmly every time a pang of envy shot through him at each of Pyro’s stories, it was his job to be proud of how far his brothers had come, to support them, to want them to be better than him. He wasn’t supposed to feel like they were leaving him behind, especially when he knew they were better off without him. He had always dragged them down.

His own stories were more subdued. Stilted and halting. He wasn’t sure what to say, didn’t want to sound too excited, too hopeful. Pyro knew his history with Jedi; all his batch brothers did. They knew what a failure he was, always had. If they were proud of him, it was because he’d made it in spite of himself and due to their support. His time alone made that dreadfully obvious. Their time without him, the way they flourished, made that painfully obvious. 

And also, there was this.

He was used to sharing everything with his brothers. That was how it was, and he didn’t mind it. But when it came to the time he spent with Commander Kaid, Toby found a certain selfishness living inside him. He didn’t want to tell Pyro about the way her smiles made him feel weak inside, knowing Pyro would carry it back to the vod to be dissected and pondered over. He didn’t want to talk about the quiet moments they shared in the kitchen or the cockpit or the gym, or the wild beauty of her hair undone from its braids, or the soft press of her body against his when they sparred, her skin so soft it left him shaking, or the way his cheek still burned from the tender press of her lips against him months after the fact. These things felt private, special, sacred in a way that nothing ever had. 

It was terrifying, worrying. 

It wasn’t something he wanted to share with his overly perceptive little brother.

He laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his newly dyed pink locks. The anxiety and embarrassment he’d felt at the idea of dying his hair to match her highlights was more than made up for by the wondering expression on her face and the way she’d reached up and _oh so gently_ ran her fingers through his hair. He’d wanted to touch her so badly in that moment he ached with the urge, but he’d simply given her a small smile and walked away. 

“Oh yeah? Why do you say that?” He asked. Pyro rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in the palm of his hands while he watched Toby with half-lidded eyes. The captain suffered the stare as best he could, endurance borne of long years of such stares serving him well. 

“Well,” Pyro said carefully, dark eyes taking in his older brother’s pinched expression, the slash of scar that was still new and startling on his face, the worry that never really left his eyes, the hunch of his shoulders, drawn in and remote from brothers who only wanted to pull him in, and something else, something new that Pyro had never seen before, not in Toby. 

“You just seem...I don’t know. More relaxed. Happier,” Pyro said, and if there was accusation in his last word, he felt it was justified because he had tried (for years he had tried, he and the others, and Lucky most of all, and it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, that some shabla Jedi could come in and in a matter of a few karking months do what he and his vod combined hadn’t been able to do in a decade. He wasn’t angry that Toby was finally beginning to relax, to be at ease in his own skin; he was jealous that he hadn’t been the one to do it) to ease his older brother’s worries for as long as he’d been alive, and nothing that he, Lucky, Kit, Joker, Checkmate, Snow, or their baby brother Blue did could loose the stranglehold Toby’s anxiety and worry and easily aroused panic had on him. 

Beneath his penetrating stare, Pyro watched Toby shift uncomfortably, his fingers twisting in the loose fabric of his bodysuit pooled around his waist baring the tattoos inked across his back, chest, and shoulders. Their sister, Kit, was the tattoo artist of their batch, and she honed her craft on all of them but none more than Toby. His skin was a testament to the growth of her skill. From the small, wonky arrow on Toby’s left collarbone that was Kit’s first attempt to the swirling, geometric arrows on his upper arms that transformed into delicate orchid blossoms that had each of their favorite constellations carefully and lovingly detailed into them as they spiraled up his arms and splashed across his muscled upper back, Kit’s skill (and Toby’s patience; the rest of them didn’t let her start inking them until the ones on Toby started looking decent) was humbly displayed. 

“Do I seem happier? I don’t know about that, Pyro. Just glad to have a Jedi I can stand, I guess,” Toby said quietly, careful not to look his brother in the eye. It wasn’t a lie, really. He did feel more relaxed, and he supposed it was because of his Jedi situation. For the first time, he didn’t feel like he was walking on eggshells, like at any moment he was going to be tossed away like so much trash. He felt...seen, known, valued. How could he explain that to Pyro without hurting him? How could he tell his brother that the way Commander Kaid looked at him was unlike anything he had ever known? Would Pyro understand? Could he? When Toby barely understood it himself, this reckless, terrifying emotion she stirred deep in his chest? 

He swallowed hard, knowing that Pyro likely saw more than he ever wanted him to. He always did. 

“Hm. Is that all? Seems off is all, you know? Not that I’m complaining,” Pyro said as he playfully threw his arm over Toby’s shoulders, drawing him into a much needed embrace that Toby relished even as he eyed the lieutenant warily, “it’s just not like you to not, you know, worry. There’s a reason we used to call you Worrier, after all.” 

Toby laughed along with Pyro, remembering when his name used to be Worrier and how he’d come to the name Toby instead, a name he cherished. He was in officer’s school and had somehow made it to the rank of lieutenant. He and Verb were sharing a tent and marveling at the rare lull in rain on their stormy home planet.

“Why do you let them call you Worrier?” Verb had suddenly asked in the gloom of the evening. Worrier had shrugged and bit his lip.

“Because it’s what I do. My batch brothers say it’s all I’m good at,” he’d said quietly, resigned to his name and his fate. Verb had scoffed, the disgust in his voice so thick that Worrier had felt defensiveness instinctively rise in him on behalf of his brothers, but something had kept him quiet for once.

“That’s bullshit. _Bullshit_. And I’m not calling you that anymore. From now on, I’m calling you...Toby. Yeah, Toby.” Verb announced, and Worrier, no, Toby, felt his heart thud in his chest, the wide smile on his face as confusing as it was painful.

“Toby. I-I like that. Thanks, Verb.” He’d said, and he’d been Toby ever since to the wonder of his batch vod. They’d taken it well, his name change, accepting it with raised eyebrows and shrugged shoulders, more interested in teasing him over his newly acquired pauldron and kama than anything as inconsequential as that. After all, he was still their Worrier deep down. That would never change. 

“Yeah I know,” Toby said to Pyro, reaching up to ruffle what hair he had affectionately, chuckling when the lieutenant tried to squirm away. He did worry too much, couldn’t help it. It was just how he was built, and if it saved his brother’s and sister’s lives (which it had, several times, and if that was the only way he could be useful to the only people who loved him, he would take it) then he would accept it and do his best to live with it. And anyway, Commander Kaid didn’t seem to mind. No, she didn’t seem to mind at all...

“So will you tell me about her?” Pyro asked, resting his head on Toby’s shoulder. Toby draped his arm over Pyro’s shoulders, fingers idly tracing the black ink of the lieutenant’s own arrow tattoo on the ball of his shoulder. Kit had marked all of their batch with one.

“Tell you about who?” He asked, smiling a little at the thought of her even as he feigned ignorance. Pyro nudged him in the ribs, a quick smile playing across his lips at his older brother's playfulness. It was always good to see this side of Toby, he thought.

"Your pretty Jedi, of course. You've been with this one for, what? Six months? That's a record for you, ori'vod; I'm impressed," he said earnestly. It was important that he cut his teasing with a liberal amount of praise. Too often, when they were cadets, he had allowed the frustrations of their younger vod to be taken out on their eldest brother, thinking it would go a long way in toughening him up, in making him into the strong, capable older brother all the other batches bragged about having. He was wrong for that; he knew that now. As the second eldest, it was his job to be an example to the others, to show them the right way, and too many times he had failed in that regard, had allowed his own frustrations and embarrassment in regards to Worrier (no, _Toby_ , damn it, his name was Toby now, and he couldn’t help the frisson of jealousy that shot up his spine at the thought of the brother, of Toby’s own ori’vod separate and distinct from them, who gave him that name) to color the way he acted towards him, the way he allowed them to act towards him, and only Lucky was really able to rise above the sheer pettiness of it all. 

Toby shifted, a little wistful sigh of longing rushing out of him. Pyro hid a smile by busying himself with digging out one of Snow’s handmade rations, breaking it in two and offering half to Toby. His brother took the offered piece and chewed slowly, his eyes taking on an unintentionally dreamy cast. 

“Has it been that long? Doesn’t feel like it. Commander Kaid, she’s quiet. Really quiet. Always got something useful to say when she does speak, though. She’s kind. A good fighter. She...she listens to me,” he said softly, the last part said so wonderingly, the look in his brother’s eyes so tender that it hit Pyro like a blaster bolt to the chest. His brother was in love with his Jedi. That’s what was different, that’s why he was different, and he didn’t seem to realize it Pyro thought as he watched his brother talk. No, he decided, Toby had no idea. 

“I’d like to meet her,” he said, neatly interrupting Toby. The captain blinked at him in confusion.

“You would?”

Pyro smiled, indulgent. It was his duty to protect his big brother, and he would have thought Toby would know that by now.

“Sure! It’s not every day one gets to meet a Jedi who has something useful to say,” he said teasingly, neatly dodging Toby’s playful swat with ease. 


	5. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby saves Jotopa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little darker than the normal stuff. I bumped the overall rating of the story for this chapter just to be safe.

It felt good to hold the solid weight of his DC-15 in his hands again. More often than not, their dogged pursuit of holocrons and artifacts took them into crowded cities and their criminal underbellies, into mob bosses’ lairs and slaver’s pits, pleasure chambers and all manner of exotic places on the edges of the Outer Rim and Wild Space where his status as a clone trooper and hers as a Jedi Knight were not exactly welcome. His weapon of choice in most cases was a simple blaster pistol, something light and versatile that packed a punch when he needed it to. It served him well in most situations, and he couldn’t deny the thrill, the sheer exhilaration he felt running full tilt from something, blaster in one hand, Commander Kaid’s hand firmly held in the other, her breathless laugh as they dodged incoming blaster bolts a match to his own adrenaline fueled grin. She was a wildcat at heart, a spark always lighting in her eyes when tensions rose past their breaking point, her lightsabers coming to her hands so smoothly, so easily, it was the greater marvel that they were not always ignited. He knew deep down that in most cases his Jedi would be fine without him, but as he tossed the retrieved holocron onto his bunk and picked up his DC from the rack, his usual adrenaline rush tinged with white hot rage, with worry, with _fear_ , he couldn’t help but cynically note that this was not one of those times.

They’d taken her. They’d taken Jotopa. 

The mission started off like any other. The planet was called Kryt, an asteroid blasted world home to vast underground cities that were as lavish as they were corrupt. The so called native population was a conglomeration of generations of pleasure slaves from all over the galaxy coming together and making a culture of their own, with the slavers who ruled the vast network of cities with an unrelenting and iron fist on top. Just reading the details of the planet alone had twisted his stomach into uncomfortable knots, but when the commander had suddenly announced that she would go down without her lightsabers, he’d been unable to keep his peace.

“Sir, that’s not wise. We’ll be grossly outnumbered down there if they discover us,” he’d paused and given her a hard look, looking over the simple dress and boots she was wearing, the climate controlled air of the cockpit cool on his skin. Fek, he wanted his armor, “and no telling what they’ll do to us. To _you_ ,” he’d finished emphatically, but for once she’d waved his concerns off and pulled her braids into a high ponytail.

“It’ll be fine, Toby. I’m sure of it. These slavers only have an interest in attractive sentients, so as long as you keep your head down, we should be fine.” She’d said, handing him his jacket and brushing past him. He’d shaken his head in resignation and abject disbelief and fell into step behind her, pulling the jacket on over his muscle shirt and checking his utility belt with the ease of long practice. As long as he kept his head down? Was she serious, he’d wondered, dread pooling low and sticky in his abdomen as the cargo bay door lowered and they stepped out onto the planet surface. Did she really not know how beautiful she was? 

Everything went smoothly at first. They entered the main enclosure without incident, merging into the crush of bodies flowing in with their hands tightly clasped together lest they lose each other before they wanted to. Commander Kaid had kept close to him, her body tucked in close to his even after the crowd dispersed, and he hated that he’d been so preoccupied with the scent of her hair and how perfectly she fit against him that he dismissed the looks the guards gave them as they passed. 

If only he’d been paying more attention, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Those bastards wouldn’t have her. 

Where the main intake split off into six tunnels that led to different cities and villages (and each one of those connected by smaller tributaries so that the entire underground was more like an enormous web), they decided to split up, the anxiety in his veins replaced by pure focus as he slipped down a darker tunnel, a much smaller and discreet version of his HUD covering his eyes. The plan was for Commander Kaid to approach the leader of Kryt, a slimy human male who the slaves all called Prince Gallant and distract him while Toby snuck into his private chambers and stole the holocron. It was a stupid, reckless idea, and Toby had said as much to the dark skinned Jedi when she first pitched it to him as they were moving through the main hall, but before he could do or say more to dissuade her, the crowd was already pulling them apart. He had no choice but to play his part as it had been laid out and hope everything went as smoothly as the commander seemed to think it would.

It was fine at first. He made it into Prince Gallant’s chambers without being detected and discreetly tossed the room until he found the holocron. Pocketing it, he hefted himself into the rafters and made his way around until he could see and hear everything in the attached audience room. The audience chamber was surprisingly small given the lavish nature of the main city itself, a mostly empty room with cages lining the rounded edges, thick pillars that supported the arched ceiling, and tucked in the far back below and to the right of where Toby was hidden in the rafters, a raised dais with a decadent throne, thick furs and expensive looking fabrics draped across it. Prince Gallant lounged on the throne looking every bit the sadistic slaver piece of shit Toby assumed he would be. Various henchmen and courtiers littered the chamber, an undercurrent of lascivious excitement visibly thrumming through their bodies. Toby scanned the room, heart seizing, throat closing as his eyes caught and hung on the rumpled figure kneeling at the foot of the dais.

It was Jotopa.

It was strange: normally when he panic gripped him in combat situations and he froze, unable to make a decision through the racing thoughts crowding his mind, it felt like parts of his body were shut down and cut off from the desperate command of his mind. Like legs.exe stopped functioning when he needed to run or voice.mp3 wouldn’t respond when he needed to give orders. He likened himself to a malfunctioning droid in those cases. But in this case, all his faculties were working just fine. He wasn’t panicking, really. He was beyond that. He could recognize that in some distance and detached part of his mind. His eyes focused like lasers on her.

A guard was holding her back by her hair, one dirty fist wrapped around her ink black braids and pulling back so roughly that her neck was extended in a painful arc. Her lip was split, nose bloodied, eyes glittering black beneath her puffy lids. Already there were dark bruises forming on the dark skin of her bare arms bound at the wrists in front of her, and her dress was torn and soiled with dirt and Force only knew what else. She had not been captured easily.

The so called Prince lazily rose from his seated position and strode over to Jotopa. He was talking, no doubt mocking her, but Toby couldn’t understand him over the roar of his own blood in his ears. His mind was racing, teeth grit in an anguished scowl as he struggled with what his rage demanded he do and what his better sense was telling him he needed to do. He wanted to save her. He wanted to leap down from the crossbeams, blasters blazing, and kill everyone in the room who dared lay a finger on her. She looked woozy: that ugly hand cruelly gripping her hair the only thing holding her up. They’d drugged her, he realized with a sick jolt. He had to save her right now, before that disgusting prince who was stroking her face and looking at her like she was a delicious morsel he couldn’t wait to try actually did.

But…

His hands were shaking. Toby knew he didn’t have the firepower necessary for an approach like that. His pistol was only half charged, and he would likely have to blast his way out carrying her. No, she needed him to be rational, to think things through. He was going to save her, but he couldn’t do that if he let his emotions get in the way. He would have to retreat for now, get to the ship, and get his weapons. Then he could save her. And afterwards he could give her the scolding of a lifetime for making him go through all this heartache and trouble.

Silently, he’d made his way back to their ship and gone straight to his room and his weapons rack. Going through the motions of checking his weapon before use went a long way in calming the trembling in his hands, the pounding of his heart. By the time he had everything he needed, the wild surge of outrage and fear that flared up inside him when he first saw Jotopa had cooled and hardened into a hard ball of determined rage. He felt calm, his thoughts smoothly flowing from one logical outcome to the next, the latent tactician in him that was so often bogged down by the demands of his panic finally free to make plan after plan, and by the time he carefully set the holocron in the safe next to the other artifacts, Toby had six different avenues of approach at his disposal. He checked the charges for his DC. They were full. Good. They wouldn’t be when he got done. Those slavers were going to regret putting their hands on his Jedi.

Gaining entry into the Prince’s audience chambers was not that difficult. At first, he’d thought about using a more violent touch from the get go, but ultimately decided that wouldn’t get his point across. While people like this Prince did only understand violence, the type of violence they understood was of a certain sort. You couldn’t just indiscriminately kill people and think it would matter to him; he wouldn’t be a slaver if it did. No, Toby knew he would have to go about it an entirely different way.

He flashed Jotopa’s lightsaber (the one with the ornate hilt she said she built while traveling with her mother) at the door guards and was not surprised when their eyes widened and they ushered him in with no further questioning. Prince Gallant’s son was a notorious collector of Jedi paraphernalia, which is why they’d had a holocron in their possession in the first place, and he knew the little shit would jump at the chance to see something as rare as a functioning lightsaber.

The prince and his son were crouched over his Jedi. She was lying half conscious on her back, her arms moving weakly at her sides as though to defend herself. The front of her dress was torn and exposed her bra, and as he approached, he could see them lightly touching her collarbone and neck and discussing the types of collars that would look best against her skin.

They wanted to turn his Jedi into a kriffing slave.

Toby stopped just behind them and cleared his throat, a feral smirk on his face when they turned and looked up at him. Prince Gallant cocked an eyebrow.

“May I help you?” He drawled, an annoyed edge to his voice even as he affected a nonchalant air. Toby’s smirk widened, his grip on the lightsaber shifting as the hilt seemed to hum in his hands, a jolt going through him as though it were urging him to _use it_.

He was a good soldier. Who was he to defy the orders of the Force itself?

“You sure can.” He chirped, hand snaking out lighting fast to grab a handful of the son’s hair at the back of his head and bodily dragging the kid (who couldn’t have been more than sixteen standard years old) away from his Jedi. In his other hand, the yellow blade ignited, the sound loud and joyful to his ears and a match to the singing rush of his blood in his veins. “You can start by getting your filthy hands off my woman, or your kid here will be shorter by a head.”

The prince scrambled back, the look of parental fear on his face as hypocritical as it was genuine.

“Take the girl, I don’t care! Just, please don’t hurt my son,” Prince Gallant begged. Behind him, Toby could hear the guards cautiously approaching, and he knew he didn’t have a lot of time to grab Jotopa.

“Stay still,” he growled in the kid’s ear, releasing him and deftly hefting his Jedi over his shoulder, ”don’t want to get poked by this thing do you, kid?” The boy whimpered, and Toby might have felt a twinge of sympathy for him if it were not Jotopa’s torn clothes and the bruises on her skin. He grabbed the kid and pushed him in front of him, bodily walking him through the doors.

“Where are you taking him?” The prince wailed. Toby smirked.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get him back. He might even be in one piece as long as your goons keep their blasters to themselves,” he called over his shoulder. “And you’d better hope they do,” he murmured in the boy’s ear, leaving the rest of the threat unspoken. The Prime Clone and Alpha-17 had both often said that threats were more effective when you let the other party fill in the blanks for themselves. From the kid’s increased whimpering and the sudden trail of wetness that followed after him, Toby rather agreed with that assessment.

The kid was a mess by the time they got to the _Valiant_ , shaking and crying and hardly able to put one foot in front of the other. The guards had of course followed them the entire way, so Toby’d had no choice but to get increasingly more violent with the kid to keep him moving, and the boy had a few accidental burn marks on his cheeks and neck because of it. Toby snarled and shoved the boy up the landing ramp, ignoring the kid’s pathetic sobbing as he pushed him into an out of the way corner. He gently set Jotopa down and got the ship up into the air. When they were about ten meters off the ground, he strode back over to the boy and kicked him over the side of the ramp, punching the button to close the door and really not caring all that much if the kid was dead or not. He had more important things to do.

He punched in the coordinates for the Outpost that Healer D’Alerian frequented and engaged the autopilot, not at all sorry to see the miserable planet disappear into the tunnel of hyperspace. For a long moment, he simply stood in the cockpit and let the silence of the ship engulf him. It was fine; everything was fine. He’d saved her. She was back on the ship with him where she belonged. The lightsaber trembled in his hands. He set it down with a gusty sigh and went back into the cargo bay where he’d left Jotopa. She was still barely conscious, watching him through half lidded eyes. Toby swallowed the lump in his throat and gently scooped her up in his arms, the rifle slung across his back shifting as he moved. He didn’t even get to use it, he thought ruefully, his steps brisk on the way to the medbay.

Hrnnng, Tohbee,” she slurred as he carefully laid her on the bed. There were tears pooling in her eyes as she struggled to focus on his face. Heart in his throat, he gently cupped her face and wiped the tears away with this thumbs. Her skin was swollen and hot where they struck her, and he wanted to go back and kill the ones who dared lay hand on such gorgeous skin. He trembled with it, but her hands came up and weakly gripped his forearms, and he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but right there with her.

“T-Tohbee,” she tried again, face scrunching with frustration as she struggled towards awareness. He Jedi, his reckless girl. It scared him that he would so willingly do anything for her.

“Hush, beauty, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” He murmured, pushing the thought away and letting her pull him close and drape her arms around his neck. It was uncomfortable. He was still fully dressed and kitted out, rifle digging into his shoulder blades beneath his jacket, and he was kneeling awkwardly beside the bed, but she was clinging to him with all her strength, her face pressed into the strong column of his neck as she breathed heavily and deliberately. She was trying to expel whatever drug she’d been injected with, Toby realized, and she was drawing on his strength to do so. He wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her closer to him, resting his cheek on the top of her head and letting painful relief flood through him. She was here; she was safe; she was in his arms.

After several hours and a shift of position so that she was sitting cradled on his lap, Jotopa stirred.

“Toby.” She said, her lips warm as she murmured against his neck. Toby slowly opened his eyes, the shock of sensation against his skin waking him from his light doze more than her quiet words. He sucked in a silent breath, knowing he would remember that brief touch in greater detail in private hours later, but now that she was speaking normally and they were safely away from danger, the resentment he’d felt at her recklessness rose to the forefront.

“Sir?” He responded, soft but clipped. Her fingertips danced hesitantly over his collarbone, and Toby wished for the protection of his armor if only to spare himself. She was his commanding officer; it wasn’t right…he shouldn’t long for her the way he often found himself doing. He shouldn’t have these…desires, so easily brought to the surface when she was near.

“I-I’m sorry. You were right, and I should have listened to you. I was reckless, and I caused you a lot of trouble.” She said, and he was glad for that, glad that she knew she was reckless and that she scared him, maybe even now she could feel how terrified he had been at the thought of losing her, and perhaps that’s why she tilted her head up and pressed a long, soft kiss at the juncture of his neck and jaw.

Toby’s breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed as his entire being focused on her mouth on his skin. It felt good. He didn’t know something so simple could feel so good. Why was she doing this to him? She had to know that he wanted her, that the desire had been building in him for months. He wasn’t exactly subtle, didn’t know how to be. All he could do was keep his distance, be respectful. She parted her lips, sighed a little, kissed him again. It felt _so_ good. She had to know that he was just a man and not a very strong one at that. It wasn’t fair to put him under this kind of pressure. He wasn’t rated for it. The hand supporting her back went to cup her neck, and she rested the back her head in the palm of his hand. He sighed shakily, eyes opening slowly and head tilting down to meet her gaze. Her eyes were wide and soft, expression unreadable. He attempted a smile.

“Ah, i-it’s okay, sir. Uh, as long as you to be more careful.” He said, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes away from her lips. He wanted to kiss her so badly, his bones ached with the urge. She pursed her lips.

“Jotopa.”

“Sir?”

She leaned forward and cupped his jaw, drawing his face closer to hers, and when she next spoke, her warm breath washed over his face. Toby hardly dared breathe.

“You saved my life. When we’re alone, I want you to call me Jotopa. Please?”

“Okay,” he breathed, feeling himself surrender to more than her simple request.


End file.
